A Day in the Life...

The Morning

Between six and six thirty, the rising sun wakes you. Your body may still feel a little heavy from the day before but you're not sure whether it was the work or the beer. What's definitely the beer is what's stretching your bladder. You get dressed for the 280°K outside (and probably inside as well), stumble over to the porta, maybe grunt "hi" to the other guy who's already up.

Back in your little crib, you make breakfast. If you're one of the lucky ones, you have a fridge, so it may be something healthy like yoghurt, nuts, and fruits - not that this planet has ever seen a cow or a free-growing plant, so gawd only knows what they make this stuff from.

How you spend the remaining hour or so is up to you. You may service and clean your crib, make sure it remains safe and livable. Some use the scant free time to walk their dog or enjoy a little companionship. I'm maintaining Radio Nox, writing you these words with fingers that are still a little stiff from the cold.

Roll call for work is at eight.

The Work - Part I

Depending on bossmang's mood, being late can have severe consequences, so most are early. You chat a bit about what could be worked on today while being warmed by the quickly rising sun - this will be last time for today you enjoy its presence. Somebody makes a joke that would make a space farer blush, then everybody hushes when bossmang arrives.

He goes over the day's goal, warns newbies about the rattlesnakes, and reminds everybody to be safe. A few chuckles acknowledge the cynicism. This is just for protocol - there's no way to be safe out here. Then he splits the small crowd into teams and doles out work. At the moment it's only about a dozen neckdowns, so this doesn't exactly take long and you're off to work a few minutes later.

Maybe, like me, you're mostly on scaffolding, which means lugging around metal pieces that are either 5x5 or 5x7 feet[1], anchoring them to the ground or placing them on top of one another in dizzying heights, connecting them with planks and crossers, fries and burgers (the lingo is weird - more on that some other time). The only way to at least control the danger is to look out for one another and talk through every step: "hands on", "over", "clear, "okay, Dieter" (again, it's weird). That plus the synchronicity you and I develop builds relationships that are stronger than the structures we put together. (Which will ultimately be how we break them.)

Midday

Depending on what material is available and what needs to get done, you start your lunch break some time between noon and two. It usually lasts a good two hours to make sure you dodge most of the worst heat. For lunch you'll probably have a can of whatever beans-and-synth-meat combo came in bulk this week. Rest of the break is spent on maintenance, comradery, or Radio Nox.

The Work - Part II

Work is not all scaffolding. There are always odd tasks to complete, like setting up the boundary or shoveling mostly detoxified sand into bags. Here, I'm fixing that new Super Light Scaff™:

"100% reliable at 60% the cost" my ass! I'm sure it worked great in a corpo lab, but out here it got fucked by the wind.

Speaking of the devil: Every other day you get gusts that are strong enough to screw with some of the more scrawny dwellings and once every couple of weeks, everybody needs to hunker down for a few hours and wait it out. But it can't just be powerful, it also has a devious side.

The wind is often light and pleasant, which cools you just enough to not overheat from Kepler's sun pummeling you with cancerous rays - it's about 300°K now and the UV index goes to 11. Meanwhile, wind and sun are colluding to draw every last drop of moisture out of you. That means constant hydration (usually 3-5 liters/day), sour and salty snacks, good meals, and the occasional break in the shade.

Ironically, it's bossmang who makes sure that you all do that. I guess corporate figured out that throwing you a canister of water and a bag of pretzels is cheaper than shipping out replacements from the core systems.

The Evening

Work ends between six and seven. First thing is more calories - if you feel fancy and recently earned a bonus, maybe you treat yourself to a salad and some synth meat.

After that you got an hour or two before your body shuts down. You spend it however you want but I recommend to not go it alone.

One thing you wouldn't expect is that however much shit they put you through, when a day's work is done and corporate fuckery didn't make it moot, you'll feel good about it. You'll be proud of what you built and you'll share that pride with the neckdowns at your sides. Very few things in life feel that good.

You may share a beer and snacks, listen to some music, chat about the past day or the next, your friends, families, and dreams. This word seems so out of place in this corporate desert hellscape, but it's more fitting than any other: wholesome. This is wholesome. And it's well-earned. You deserve it! And not just a sliver a day under our master's rule but all the time and on your own terms.

Until then - keep fighting. ✊🏾

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[1]: A foot is about 30cm. And since we had a history lesson just yesterday, I'll spare you a tour down the crazy rabbit hole of why we kept the ASA's fucked up measurements even though they're fundamentally incompatible with space travel, nay, the universe itself.